


What Best Friends Do

by oceaxe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-26
Updated: 2007-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6229996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Draco plays Cyrano, Hermione plays dumb, and Harry plays the fool. A post-war, Auror co-worker, UST romp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Best Friends Do

He supposed he had grown accustomed to being surrounded by Gryffindors during eighth year, when he had been the sole Slytherin to return to Hogwarts, Draco mused as he sipped his afternoon coffee. It was the only thing that explained his application to (and subsequent acceptance into and training by) the Auror Division. The Aurors were pretty much nothing but a bunch of do-good meddlesome Gryffindors. Oh, there were a couple of Ravenclaws in Strategy, a few Hufflepuffs in administration, but on the whole it was a haven for the house of boneheaded bravery. Even as the lone Slytherin, however, he felt less out of place than he'd have thought.

Draco made a pretty good Auror, actually, and had done so for the past few years. His partner, Terry Boot, constantly told him how much he'd changed since school, and he had to admit it was true. Lots of things had changed, or seemed to have. He wasn't sure if it was just his perception or actual fact, but nothing in his life was the same as it used to be.

For instance, he and Harry Potter had worked together on a special project for a few months after training and hadn't even attempted to kill each other. The project lasted just long enough for Draco to realize that everything he'd assumed about the former boy-hero was wrong (well, almost everything). Harry was intelligent, well-spoken, considerate, funny, and pretty easy on the eyes- despite his terrible hair and lack of fashion sense. That much of his long-held opinion remained uncontradicted by experience, at any rate.

To Draco's unabated surprise, they'd actually become friends, and Harry stopped by his office almost every afternoon for a chat. Yet again, Draco's assumptions were proved wrong, as he'd always assumed that Harry would never give him the time of day. He had, at long last. Rather, corrected Draco in his head, he hasn't exactly given me the time of day, per se, but he has now let me know the day, month and year.

"It's July 1, 2005, Draco!" Harry had said, as though this was supposed to mean something to him. He gave Harry a blank look. "There's less than a month to go before I turn twenty-five.”

“And?” prompted Draco.

“And I promised myself I'd be married, or at least engaged, by the time I was twenty-five. I told you that, didn't I?" Draco checked twice - yes, it seemed Harry was serious.

He huffed in exasperation. "What's with these arbitrary dates, Potter? You had to be an Auror by the age of twenty. You had to own your own home by twenty-two. Now you have to be married by the age of twenty-five? What's the rush? Whose schedule are you on?"

If Draco were being honest with himself, which he actually tried to be these days, he would have had to admit that it was the idea of the marriage itself and not the arbitrariness of the date that upset him so.

"I never got any say over my life until Voldemort died,” Harry explained patiently. “I didn't know if I'd have a life, even if I managed to kill him. Now,” he said, attempting to straighten a pile of papers on his desk, “I get to say when and how and what things happen to me. I'm not wasting any more time. I want a partner. A family."

"Forgive me for being blunt, but you don't even have a girlfriend." A fact that had been a private comfort to Draco.

Harry eyed Draco. Draco swallowed convulsively, in spite of himself.

"No. Well spotted, Malfoy. But...." Harry trailed off, meaningfully.

Draco began to get slightly warm under the collar, pinned by Harry's intense gaze.

"But I do have a very good friend who's also single, who also has no family here..."

Draco's heart leapt in his chest. _Calm the fuck down, you idiot,_ he counseled himself, _he's not even gay. And if he were, he'd certainly not be propositioning you- for role of his wife! And 'a family' means children! And you are a man!_

“We get along well, hang out together all the time - we haven't ever taken things in a romantic direction but there's no reason to think we couldn't…”

 _Oh god, what if he really is talking about me? Maybe he's gayer than I thought. What am I going to do?_ He asked himself. _You'll say yes, you fool, consequences be damned! You're going to be bearing Potter's children, so help me Merlin!_

"Potter, wait - " Draco waved his hands defensively.

"No, no, hear me out. I think this could really work-"

"I don't know about this," Draco said, even as his chest felt like it was opening up like a flower in bloom. His balls were tightening, everything was going sort of hazy and white, he was going to say yes, he was...

"Hermione has been alone for too long. I think we should just suck it up and get married."

Blood pounded in his ears and turned to ice in his veins at the same time.

"You want to marry Hermione," he said woodenly.

"Yes. I do." Harry looked truculently determined.

Silence. A question was forcing its way out of Draco's mouth, a question he really didn't want to ask and certainly didn't want to know the answer to, but it was too late. The words were forming.

"Do you love her?"

"Of course I love her! We've been friends for forever, she's been there for me through everything. Her parents don't remember her, Ron is with Pansy. " He planted his feet, his fists on his hips. "She's always been so good to me. I owe it to her."

"Wait, wait, wait- You owe it to her? What kind of bubble headed Gryffindor nonsense is this?"

"That's what best friends do.”

“No! Best friends do not let best friends enter into marriages of convenience with other best friends!” He could see by the increasingly determined look on Harry's face that his argument was going nowhere.

“Draco. This is me. Harry Potter. You know how it is. I'm never going to find 'true love,' if I ever even believed in it in the first place."

Feeling strangled, he asked "Why not?"

"Because. Just look at me."

Draco did. He wished to all the gods in the pantheon that he didn't feel so strongly about what he saw. It made his life so difficult.

"I'm looking," he huffed.

"Figuratively, I mean. I'm hardly a catch.

"But-"

"Yeah, rich, famous, and not too bad-looking. With enormous trust issues, childhood abuse baggage, a chip on my shoulder the size of Cornwall, not a romantic bone in my body...."

"Well, there's got to be one bone that's a _bit_ romantic..." Draco winced at his shitty joke, but he'd had to say something to lighten the mood. Potter's list of his own shortcomings was painfully accurate.

Harry smiled wryly at him. "Right. The point is, I might be able to find someone, someone who likes me well enough, and is star-struck enough to be _stupid_ enough to marry me without knowing me all that well. But they'd throw their hands up in despair once they learned what I'm really like. I've had a couple girlfriends now, and some boyfriends too, and it never goes well. They're always expecting me to be someone else, someone more together. Less difficult. They don't get me. I'm done with it."

Draco's mind had gotten hung up somewhere around the "boyfriends" part. Since when? Must have been before Auror training, because he'd watched Potter like a hawk ever since the first day when they were in the locker room together. He knew Potter had gone on some dates with women, but Draco would be damned if he'd ever seen or heard about a bloke. Things might be very different right now if he had.

He gathered his wits from the four corners of the earth. It seemed to take forever- enough time for Potter to turn away, assuming Draco had no more to say.

"I just want to say one thing, Potter. I think it's a terrible idea."

"Fair enough. But you'll help me with it?"

"Yeah, okay," Draco said, mentally smacking himself. _Apparently, what best friends do is actively sabotage their own happiness._

He couldn't help but return the smile when Potter grinned at him like that, but he knew he wouldn't be smiling for long.

 

* * *

 

Hermione kicked the door open as she struggled to bring both her groceries and the mail. She almost tripped over Crookshanks, who loved to wind himself around her feet as soon as she came in.

"Damn it, you beast!" she muttered. Crookshanks mrowred at her, as if to say, "You're helpless before my furry glory and you know it."

She settled on her couch with her latest purchase, Witches Who Love Wizards Who Don't Love Them, when the Floo rang. "Who is it?" she yelled. "It's me," came Harry's voice.

Hermione hastily hid the book under a quilt so that Harry wouldn't see it. That would be a little embarrassing to explain.

"Come on in, Harry!" she said.

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace and brushed himself off without much attention to where the ash went. Hermione grimaced and said "Want anything to drink?"

"Yeah, sure! Got any beer?"

"You know I always have one for you. I just picked some up with the groceries." She went into the kitchen, and the sounds of groceries being unpacked and bottles clanking floated into the living room.

"You're the tops, Hermione," Harry said as he sat on the quilt-covered couch. He was making the right choice. With her around, it would be beer and quilts and groceries all the time. Unlike his flat, which was messy and ugly and quiltless and usually foodless as well. And unlike Draco's, where it was sterile and modern and all one could get was passionfruit-infused vodka.

Hermione was still unloading groceries, so Harry looked around her flat. It was nice. He could imagine living here. He resettled himself on the sofa and felt something poking into his thigh. He tugged on it- "Witches Who Love Wizards Who Don't Love Them?" he muttered. _Oh, Hermione. No wonder she hid this book from me._

He found himself unexpectedly unsettled by the notion that Hermione was harboring a secret passion for him so intense that she had bought a self-help book, but he reasoned that it was just concern and compassion he felt. He was glad, no, ecstatic that he was about to make her dreams come true. It was what she deserved, after all.

Hermione was coming back into the room with his beer when it occurred to him that his proposal might seem somewhat... passionless. She might take offense if he didn't first declare his undying love for her; she might even refuse his offer out of the wrong-headed (but understandable) notion that marriage should only be undertaken by two people in love. Since he would never lie to her, he would have to devise some way of making his intentions clear without making an untrue declaration.

_It's not as though I won't grow to feel for her what she apparently feels for me. Once we're married and having sex (he ignored a slight inward shudder), _it will build a bond between us that will be better than passionate love.__

"Thanks for the beer."

"Sure thing. So, what's up? Why are you here?" Hermione asked.

"Can't I just drop by?"

"Sure... but you're usually too busy hanging out with the boys." She laughed, mitigating the accusatory sound of her statement.

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. "I was just wondering. Have you ever thought of marriage?"

"Um, that's rather out-of the blue, isn't it?' Hermione asked, after a brief pause.

"Well, have you?" Harry flicked his gaze over her.

"No, not since Ron went off with that... Pansy," she said, looking at her hands.

"But haven't you thought that maybe there could be someone else?"

"Well, there could be... but what's the point? Anyway, I'm too busy with my work."

Time for the plunge. "I've been thinking. I want to have a partner. A... life partner."

"Harry, that's great! Who is it?"

"Well, I don't really have one yet. But I have someone in mind, and... I'm just trying to find the right way to ask."

"You could just ask. The worst that could happen is that they could say no."

"Yeah, 'No' is the most likely response at the moment. I have to be convincing. I have to show that having a partner is the best thing for... this person, that they've been lonely too long and things can be better with someone there."

"So you have to woo, and you're not sure how to do that?" Understanding spread over Hermione's face.

Harry smiled in relief. "That's it, exactly. How would you like to be wooed?"

"Me? Well, I'm not sure of the relevance there, but personally I want to know that the person feels passionately for me. Extravagant presents really aren't the point- I guess I like to know that the person knows me pretty well, my favorite authors, my interests and so on. I want to feel that they've been paying attention, that they can't keep their eyes or mind off of me."

Harry's attention had wandered. This was a perfect job for Draco! He enjoyed doing research, and he had much more of a head for books and, well, feminine things than Harry did. With Draco's assistance, he could unearth all Hermione's secret buttons and triggers- which authors to name-drop, what colors and cologne to wear, what wine to order, blah blah blah. Hermione would be saying yes in no time, and he wouldn't have to declare his undying love! Actions spoke louder than words, anyway, right?

"Harry?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Great suggestions! Hey, Hermione? I've got to go. But let's have dinner soon, okay? I'll- in fact, I'll take you out to dinner. Your favorite place. Friday okay?"

"Uh, sure..."

she said, confusion warring with irritation, not that Harry noticed.

Harry Apparated off, and Hermione frowned. "Now, what was that all about," she asked Crookshanks.

 

* * *

 

"Draco?"

"In here, Potter." He hated the way his heart seemed to be trying to vacate his chest cavity whenever he heard that voice. _Maybe someday I'll let it jump all the way out. Then I won't have to deal with it anymore. Just leave it lying there, pounding feebly, leaking all over the floor._

Draco was startled out of his gory reverie by Potter's hand on his shoulder.

"Gah!" He wrenched his shoulder out from under Potter's hand and turned in his chair to face him. "Jeebus, Potter, scare a fellow to death, why don't you?"

Potter grinned at him. "You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"What you just said wrong?"

Draco bristled. "What could I have possibly said wrong just now? You did just almost scare me to death. Okay, perhaps that was hyperbole, but I fail to see-"

Harry cut him off with a wave of his hand. "What Muggle deity did you just invoke?"

"What? Oh you mean-" Draco shrugged. "So I got his name wrong. Jeebus, Jeevis, what's the difference?"

Harry was in hysterics now. "It's Jesus! Jesus! Christ!" For some reason, this last word made him laugh even harder.

Harry looked so appealing when he was losing it. His teeth gleamed, his eyes crinkled up, his deep laugh was infectious. Draco couldn't help but crack a smile at his amusement, even if it was at his expense. Then he realized how soft he'd gone. Just for Potter.

Hold up- he'd not gone soft. He'd gone-

Draco scooted his chair back under his desk with alacrity born of desperation. Harry did not need to know the effect he had on Draco simply by having a fit of hilarity. _What a nightmare._

At least he'd calmed down now. Too bad the residual mirth was making him look at Draco with something like fondness.

"What do you want, Potter? Some people have jobs to do."

'Hey, sorry. I was just... look, you know how you said you'd help me? With Hermione?"

"Yes, I do remember making that impetuous, and in retrospect, entirely ridiculous promise. What of it?"

"Well, I have something you can do."

"Yippee skip," Draco deadpanned. "What is it, then?"

"Don't act so thrilled about it- I thought you wanted to help." He looked disappointed.

 _Oh no, it's the puppy dog eyes. I'm fucked._ Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I do want to. How can I be of service?" He rose from his chair and bowed graciously, one hand behind his back.

Harry chuckled.

"That's better. Okay, here's what I got. I went to Hermione's place yesterday and asked how she wanted to be wooed."

"No points for subtlety, Potter." Secretly, Draco was glad. Harry was going to bollocks this up horribly! He had nothing to worry about. _Except being alone for the rest of your life because your crush of, let's call it the past ten years give or take, is plainly not interested in you._

"She didn't know that I'm trying to woo _her_ \- I didn't say! That's how subtle I am, Malfoy."

"Oh bravo, you want to marry this woman in less than a month and she still doesn't know your intentions?"

"Well, she- I think she wants to feel- Hm. There's kind of a problem, actually."

"Let me guess. A problem such as: she wants the man she marries to be in love with her. Which you're not."

"Not _yet_. But I'm sure I could be."

_Bloody Gryffindors!_

"Potter. I'm going to tell you one more time how terrible an idea this is." Draco hoped his tone was merely chilly and not pleading.

"I know you think that. I don't blame you. But I've thought long and hard about it, and I know it's the best thing. For both of us."

"And it's got to happen in a month."

"Preferably. At least I should propose by then. I'll still feel good about that."

"You are a control freak, you know that?"

"Yeah. You gonna help me?" He knelt down next to Draco and prepared to launch the puppy dog eyes assault yet again.

Draco didn't know if he could endure that a second time in one day without just grabbing Potter and molesting him to the point of no return, so he yanked him off the ground, grabbed him by the shoulder firmly and said "Yes. I will help you. Marching orders, please."

 

* * *

 

Draco couldn't believe he was doing this. He was supposed to get pally with Hermione, work his way into her confidence, discover her innermost hopes and dreams, and then help Harry make those come true. All in less than 27 days.

At least he wasn't starting from square one. In eighth year, he and Hermione had been study partners of a sort, sharing notes and study aids for Arithmancy and Transfiguration, and even the occasional piece of personal advice. She no longer hated him, and when they saw each other, they were friendly. Chatty, even- and Draco didn't usually do chatty.

But that was not much of a foundation to build a confidante relationship. Maybe he could appeal to her inner fag-hag and share stories about boys. Trouble was, he wasn't quite out of the closet yet. Also, if he did that, he'd be liable to start hinting around about Potter, and she would be clever enough to suss him out.

The only other way Draco knew how to get close to a woman was to flirt with her, but clearly that was not on, in this situation.

_Come on, man, think! What do the two of you have in common?_

Oh yes! Shopping!

 

* * *

 

Granger-

It has come to my attention that you are in need of a fashion advisor. I am graciously offering to accept that post. Please meet me at Harrod's in Knightsbridge at 11 am this Sunday.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

 

* * *

 

Draco-

It has come to my attention that you are still a presumptuous prat. Nevertheless, I would love to go shopping with you. See you on Sunday.

Hermione

 

* * *

 

Draco looked for, and spotted, a bushy head of hair amongst the incoming crowd. _Perhaps I could sell on her on some hair-sleeking product. That would a major coup._

“Granger.” He took her hand, bent and kissed it.

“Draco, how gallant!” Hermione chuckled. “Is this a date?”

Draco feared his face colored slightly. “No, no. Just needed to do some shopping and wanted a friend along. And thought I might atone for some of my sins in the process.”

“Atonement, huh? You know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Well, I didn't say I wouldn't enjoy it,” he smirked. “I can't wait to see what you make of the styles this season,” he drawled as they made their way up through the aisles and displays.

“Just because you're a clothes horse doesn't mean we all have to be. Although, I do rather fancy your opinion on some shoes I've been thinking about.”

“By all means. It would be churlish to deny you the benefits of my superior taste and judgment.”

“Right. Are you going to be this insufferable all day, or are you going to play nice?”

“Granger, this _is_ nice.”

Hermione laughed and shoved him. “Alright, well… I suppose I may as well benefit, then. Come on, I'll show you the shoes.”

Draco had vetoed fourteen pairs of shoes selected by Hermione when they finally found a pair they could both agree on. Unfortunately, said pair were 400 pounds, at which Hermione balked.

“Your loss, Granger. You've never known heaven until you've worn a well-made pair of shoes. Which I suspect you've never done in your lifetime. But no matter. I'm tired of apparel- let's hit the bookstore.”

Hermione clapped her hands in glee. “I thought you'd never ask!”

 

* * *

 

They threaded their way through the shelves of Flourish and Blott's Knightsbridge branch, Hermione occasionally pointing out books she'd recently read and enjoyed.

_Potter's never going to be able to read these books- Zen and the Art of Japanese Runes, Metamagical Philosophical Theory, House of Leaves, I'll have to create some kind study guide for him._

After an hour or so, Draco asked “Are you as tired of books as I am?”

“Draco, you of all people should know that I never tire of books. However,” Hermione added, “my feet are tired of all this walking. What do you say we…” she hesitated. “Get pedicures? Or is that too girly?”

“Girly? Hermione Granger, pedicures are the foundation of good grooming. I know just the place.”

 

* * *

 

As their feet soaked in the swirling water, Hermione cleared her throat.

"Harry came by the other day."

"Oh, did he?" Draco fought to keep his expression bland and neutral. 

"Yes. He was in kind of a funny mood. Talking about finding a life partner. Rather odd, really."

Draco cleared his throat. "I don't know what's so odd about that. It gets lonely, coming home to an empty bed every night."

"Well, I wouldn't know about that- I've got Crookshanks." Hermione laughed softly.

"And Harry has Hedwig, she's nice and fluffy. Though I don't suppose he could actually cuddle with her. He's probably desperate for a nice warm human female to cuddle up with." _Desperate? Way to go, Cyrano._

"Or human male," she said, darting a glance at Draco.

"What?" Draco started, feeling like he'd been on the receiving end of an Enervate.

"Did he ever tell you about his fling with Terry Boot?"

"Boot? My _partner_?"

"I didn't know he was your partner. He's awfully handsome. But yes, in sixth year. It was a little bit sad, really." She frowned.

"That... ugh, they kind of look alike- that's too weird- "

"Yes, it really is. He went with Smith once, too."

"Zacharias? That wanker?!"

"Well, that was how it started." Hermione was starting to sound a little bit gossipy. Draco wondered where this was going.

"What do you mean?"

"Wanking. In the shower."

Draco blanched.

"C'mon, Draco," chided Hermione. "Don't look so shocked - I know you weren't a saint at school!"

"Well, no... but Harry?" Draco's mind was reeling. How on earth was he to deal with this information? One thing was for certain, he was no longer picking up a mocha for Terry Boot when he went for his morning latte.

"Why are you bringing this up, Hermione?"

"Oh, I don't know. Did you know he swung both ways?" She fixed him with a shrewd look.

"Well, in the abstract. I didn't know his taste was so bad. Scratch that- I didn't know his taste in men was so bad."

Was Hermione saying that she thought Potter was gay? She'd never agree to marry him if he allowed this misapprehension to survive. Then Potter would hate him. And he couldn't have Potter hating him, even if Potter liking him and Potter being married went hand in hand.

"He's been out with many more women than men, though. I think he's mostly straight."

"Well, he's been out with more women than men, that's true." Hermione sounded as if she didn't consider the matter settled, but Draco didn't know what else to say. He was dying to pry for more details concerning Boot and Smith, but that wasn't exactly why he was here, now was it?

"So, have you read that new book by Hortensia Sommersturm?"

"Oh, I have! It was so exquisitely written, the details so true to life…” He drifted off, something clicking into place. “Wait a minute. It was all about two boys falling in love.” At once, the penny dropped. She wasn't really talking about Potter's orientation at all. “Hermione," he drawled, "what exactly are you getting at?"

"I think you know exactly what I'm getting at, young man."

He smiled wryly at her. "Are you calling me out?"

" _Are_ you out?"

"I'm not trying to be, but I'm not trying not to be, either."

"Good, because getting pedicures at La Belle Pied is not the best way to keep the closet door shut."

Draco smiled as he admired his newly-primped toes. "All the same, I'd rather this be between the two of us."

"Oh, I won't tell Harry. Can't believe he hasn't noticed it yet, really."

"Noticed what?" Draco sat bolt upright, then realized this posture was a dead giveaway and forced himself to relax back into his seat. Had she somehow figured out his secret obsession with Potter?

"Noticed that you're gay. He thinks you make it with every lady that gives you the eye. Which is quite a lot of them, really."

Draco preened. "If I wanted to, I'm sure I could, as you say, 'make it' with any lady I chose. But since when do you and Potter speculate on my love life?”

"Oh, it was just something he said in passing. I wouldn't make too much of it. Anyway, he's somewhat freakishly obtuse."

"He is that." Draco nodded sagely and Hermione chuckled. He joined her, enjoying the irony of the situation.

"Well, I think my toes are just about as pretty as they're going to get. Want to get some coffee?"

"Oh, I'd simply love to!" Draco waved his hands about in delight.

"Wow, now that I'm in on your preferences, I'm going to get the royal fag-hag treatment, aren't I?"

"You've no idea what a relief it will be to flounce around unimpeded."

Hermione burst out laughing. "You- flouncing! I don't think you could do it if you tried."

"Watch and learn, Hermione! I learned from the best."

"Yeah, Lucius had a mean flounce on him, I'll grant you that. Why don't we go back to my place? I've got an espresso machine and everything!"

"You are quickly turning into one of my favorite people, Granger."

"Based on my possessions?"

"Naturally. How else am I to determine a person's worth? Now, how do I get to your flat?"

"We'll do side-along. I'm bushed, and I don't want to mess my pedi with walking."

 

* * *

 

Hermione turned out to be a lot of fun. Draco found himself wishing she were a man- she'd make a great boyfriend. Good listener, quick-witted, laughed at all his jokes, always took his fashion advice.

Her decorating skills could use some help, but he didn't suppose Potter would care or even notice her bizarre penchant for gingham. Potter. He was supposed to be learning things about Hermione for Potter's use. So Potter could woo her. So Potter could propose to her. So Potter could marry her. So Draco could be heart-broken.

 

* * *

 

"Potter."

Harry looked up from an enormous pile of paper, circles under his eyes. "Oh, hey."

"Hay is for horses."

"Huh?"

"Egad, Potter, you're half asleep. Looks like you've got a late night here- would you like some coffee?"

"No, I should just go home. Actually, I'd really like a drink. Wanna get one with me?"

Draco pondered the wisdom of this. On the one hand, he really wanted to. On the other hand, Potter looked too adorable when sleepy, and a sleepy, tipsy Potter was going to be even adorabler yet. More adorable, his brain corrected. _And on that proverbial third hand, you're so tired and sloppy you'll probably confess your unrequited love after the first sip of firewhiskey. Oh, sod it._

“Yes. Where to?”

Harry shuffled around some papers on the desk, then turned to Draco and smiled. “How about that place we went to last spring? The one with the outdoor patio?”

“The Turf?” It took every ounce of wizardly control for Draco to conceal his shock. He didn't think Potter remembered that place. They'd only been there the once, and both of them had gotten extremely drunk. And Draco had rather lost the plot, for a moment.

 

* * * one year ago * * *

 

“I love getting out of London.”

“Me too. 's too loud 'n smelly there. Wanna another drink?

“Don't think I should. What the hell. 'M not Apparating home at this stage anyway.”

“Good man.” Potter got up and weaved his way to the bar, where it took an inordinately long time for the bartender to notice him.

Draco put his head down on the table. He definitely should not have ordered that other drink. The alcohol already in his system was making it difficult to ignore or control his responses to Harry's proximity, and he wasn't even sitting that close to him. He was across the table, in fact. But Potter would keep leaning forward to make some point or other, and his eyes would shine and he'd lick his lips and then they'd shine, and the lights in the trees overhead were just making everything shiny, Potter's hair gleaming, his skin flushed.

Every time Harry leaned towards him, Draco had to consciously drag his eyes back up, away from the small expanse of chest hair between the vee of his open shirt, the pulse point at the base of his throat, the dimple in his chin, the curve of his lip. As more and more lager made its way into Draco's bloodstream, his eyes weren't quite obeying his brain as well as they should. Consequently, he was as turned-on as he could remember being and feeling more out-of-control than he'd been in ages. He groaned.

The thunk of a drink being placed on the table in front of his head made him look up.

“Draco? You okay?” Suddenly Harry was right there, on the bench next to Draco, his face far, far too close.

“'M fine. Don't think you should sit there though.” Somehow his arm had made its way around Harry's back, hand settling on his left hip.

Harry said “Why not? You meeting someone?” With this, he chuckled and leaned infinitesimally closer to Draco.

It was too much. Draco's restraints gave way. “Mm,” he said by way of reply, closed his eyes and felt his lips touch Harry's. He heard a soft moan that he knew must have been his, and pulled away immediately, horrified.

It was a miracle he didn't splinch himself Apparating away. It was also a miracle that he didn't sprain his dick, he wanked so hard over the feel of Harry's lips, the smell of Harry's skin so close to his own.

The sexual release didn't quell his fear that Harry was going to end their friendship, though. It was a very strange night, alternating wanking and worrying andq wanking.

But the next day, Harry didn't act weird. He seemed a little bit down, but that could have been the rotten hangover he was sure to have. At any rate, he didn't treat Draco like he was a drooling Acromantula. It would seem that luck had been on Draco's side for once, and Harry had forgotten the whole thing due to excessive alcohol consumption.

 

* * * one year later * * *

 

Harry was still waiting for a response to his invitation.

“Th- That's all the way in Oxford,” Draco stammered.

Harry gave him a wry look. “I seem to recall someone saying to me- frequently, I might add- 'Are you or are you not a wizard?' We can Apparate, mate.”

“You can't - you're too tired,” he blurted.

“Well then, you can take me Side-Along.”

“I've already done that once today- it's pretty…” he flapped his hands around to demonstrate exhaustion.

“Oh don't give me that. You're a big, strong wizard.” Harry stepped right up next to him and put his arm around Draco's waist. Draco inhaled sharply and immediately wished he hadn't, as he got a noseful of Harry's musky, slightly sweaty scent. “Let's go.”

Inwardly shrugging his shoulders, Draco Apparated them both, feeling the firmness and warmth of Potter's body all along his left side.

 

* * *

 

“Well, here we are,” Draco said briskly, disengaging from Potter's really rather engaging body.

“Sorry I smell, Malfoy,” said Harry, looking put out by the alacrity with which Draco distanced himself.

“No, no… it's just…” Draco trailed off, not knowing what to say. “What do you want to drink?”

“I wonder if they still have that Flowers ale?”

“You remember that?”

Harry gave him a strange look. “Why wouldn't I?”

“Well - you were really drunk that night.”

“Yeah. I don't remember much about that night, except the beer.”

Draco sagged slightly, in relief.

“And the company.”

Draco jumped and darted a glance at Harry. Harry had an inscrutable expression on his face, but he didn't seem to be accusing Draco of anything, so Draco decided that he could - and should - change the subject.

“I went shopping with Hermione, you know.”

“Yeah, she told me. What'd you find out?”

“Well, as it turns out, she likes books!”

Harry biffed the back of Draco's head, laughing.

“Hey, watch the hair!” Draco batted Harry's hand down, authoritatively.

“You pillock! Tell me something I don't know!”

“Hmmm…she likes getting pedicures, too.”

“Well of course she does, she's a girl.” Harry rolled his eyes.

Draco looked shifty.

“Wait… you're not telling me that you… did you?” Harry sounded amused and scandalised, all at once.

“I might have,” he hedged.

“You girl's blouse! Let me see your feet!” Harry seemed delighted by his friend's poofter tendencies, Draco couldn't help but notice.

“Potter, this is hardly the venue.”

“We could go back to my place,” Harry said, waggling his eyebrows in a jocular fashion.

“Just so I can indulge your bizarre foot fetish? I don't think so,” Draco said, wishing he couldn't feel the blush spreading across his cheeks. He chuckled to cover his discomfort and rose to go to the bar. 'So, a “Flowers” ale for you? Now who's the girl?”

“I'm secure in my masculinity, Malfoy,” Harry called out after him.

 

* * *

 

When Draco returned to the table with their drinks, he noticed that Harry was looking a lot less lighthearted than when he'd left.

“Why the long face, Potter?”

“Oh, I don't know. I think maybe I'm going about this all wrong. Using you to get close to Hermione.”

Draco's blood threatened to run cold. “What do you mean?”

“Just… I should be the one.”

 _You are the one_ , Draco's brain couldn't help but supply. He grimaced at the sappiness of his internal monologue.

Harry took the grimace to be a commentary on his scheme. “Yeah, I know you think it's a bad idea, Malfoy. But I think I should be talking to her, getting close to her. I'm sure I can figure out what she wants from a … a boyfriend. A husband. I mean, how hard can it be?”

“Let's see… Cho, Ginny, Parvati, Romilda… Your track record speaks for itself.”

“Ha. To every newspaper that will listen, yeah. Thank god my forays onto the other team never made it into one of those rags.”

Draco stiffened. Oh, how he wanted to pump Potter for more information about those forays. (Or anything else, really. The verb “pump” and the noun “Potter” went very well together.) But he had to be very careful - anything he said could give him away, and then where would he be? Best to just remain silent. Completely disinterested. Potter could touch as many boys as he wanted and Draco would never spare a moment's thought. Not even one. Not even the merest hint of one.

“Draco?” Harry looked both uncertain and slightly offended. Clearly several moments had elapsed, during which Draco had been imagining Potter touching boys.

“What? Oh, sorry. Just… drifted off there. What did you say?”

“I said… oh, never mind.” Harry looked put out again. “Enough about my 'forays.' What else did you learn about Hermione?”

Always back to Hermione. Draco could tell he was feeling too out of control, too emotional, to have this conversation. Bitterness and exasperation at the position he was in bubbled over in him.

Harry was a great guy, he was wonderful, actually- everything Draco had ever wanted in a … in anyone, but by Merlin he was being a right berk over this thing with Hermione. Irritation suddenly overrode his determination to stand by his friend, and he could feel his voice turn shrewish and sarcastic.

“Well, let's see. She's a girl," he said, ticking it off on his fingers. "She likes the normal girl things. She likes romance and espresso and shoes and for someone to listen to her. She wants to feel special, wants someone to understand her and be there for her. I mean, honestly, Potter, as you said- how hard can it be? Get her some flowers, some wine, tell her she's not fat, pretend to like her cat, and you're in. Haven't you been friends with her for ages, anyway? It's not like she's suddenly a different person, you know!”

“I know that! I'm just… God, Draco, I'm trying to take a friendship to another level and it's not easy. I have no idea how to go about it! What do I say?"

I wish I knew, Draco thought.

Harry continued, getting more and more agitated. “Should I say 'I know we've been just friends all these years, and I'm not even sure if I'm attracted to you, but I think we should get married because we're both tired of being alone, or at least I am, and I'm too broken to make it work with anyone else and you always have beer in your fridge'? That'll go over like a lead balloon.”

“But it's the truth.” Why couldn't he just see that? Why was he pursuing this ridiculous sham?

“But it won't work!”

“Then maybe you should just drop-”

“I don't want to hear it! Goddamn it, Malfoy! I thought you were my friend!”

“I'm Hermione's friend, too, Potter, and I think she deserves better!” Draco suddenly realized he was shouting. The words "deserves better" kept ringing in his ears.

Harry's face drained of color, completely.

“Well then. I suppose you probably deserve better, too. I'll just be going. I- goodbye.” And with that, he Apparated away.

Draco felt like crying. But since Malfoys don't cry, he drank instead.

 

* * *

 

“You want to go to a party with me, tonight?”

“What?" Draco looked up from his quiche to see Hermione cocking her head at him, like a bushy little dog.

“Merlin, Draco, where are you today? I thought it would be nice to have some company at brunch, but as it turns out, I'm still by myself, visual evidence to the contrary.”

“Sorry, I'm just a little preoccupied. What did you say about a party?”

“It's good to know your brain wasn't entirely shut down. Yes, a party. At Susan Bones' flat. It's to celebrate her acceptance to the Salem Witch Institute graduate program. Could get pretty wild, I hear.” She winked at him and pushed at his arm.

“For Hufflepuffs.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Will Harry be there?"

“Why?”

“No reason.”

Hermione looked sceptical. “I don't think so, he said he had to work on Sunday. You two aren't getting on right now?”

“We had a bit of a disagreement. I'm sure it will blow over soon.” _As soon as I stop being hopelessly in love with him, or he stops his doomed pursuit of you,_ he failed to add.

“Hm. Well, it sounds like you could stand to cut loose a little bit. Just say you'll go with me- I hate going to these things alone. Makes me feel like an old maid.”

“Hermione, you know most of them know, or at least suspect, that I'm gay, right?”

“So what, you're handsome and well-dressed. A girl would be lucky to have you on her arm.”

Draco beamed. He was such a sucker for flattery. “You speak the truth. Okay, I'll go with you. Can I pick out what you wear?”

“Only if you promise to get really drunk and do your impression of Professor Slughorn.”

“Done.”

 

* * *

 

The party had indeed gotten a bit wild. George Weasley were there, wreaking his own special brand of magic. Draco was glad that there were also some others there that he actually wanted to see. Justin Finch-Fletchley was looking rather 'fletching,' as he'd joked to Hermione. He didn't really fancy him, he just wanted an excuse for the awful word-play.

“Okay, everyone,” said Susan Bones. “We're going to play a game. It's called …”

“Spin the bottle,” chimed a whole chorus of people. Clearly, this game had been played at many of Susan's parties.

“The Hufflepuffs liked this game, at school,” Hermione said, snickering.

“Ooh, how naughty!" he exclaimed, with a smirk. "They'd have fainted if they'd seen what the Slytherins got up to."

Despite their snarking, Draco and Hermione both joined the rather large circle that had formed on the hardwood floor. They got to witness Neville kiss Susan, Susan kiss Colin, Colin kiss a very reluctant Justin (“Oh, that's a shame,” whispered Hermione to Draco, “I don't think he bats for your team.”), Justin kiss Charlie Weasley, and Charlie kiss...

“Hermione.”

“Oh, okay!” Hermione looked terrified. Charlie smiled and approached her on his knees, crawling like a tiger. She gulped, visibly.

“Come on, Hermione, I won't bite,” he growled. She didn't look too sure of that. He grinned at her.

It was clear to most of the room that her reluctance was born of shyness and excitement rather than distaste. Charlie pulled her to him and delivered a kiss that soon had the room hooting. When he finally released her, she looked thoroughly ravished and ecstatic.

“Spin the bottle,” someone called out. Hermione gathered herself and spun.

“Draco.” They looked at each other and laughed. Hermione's eyes were shining and she kept glancing over at Charlie Weasley, who was looking similarly twitterpated. Draco found that he was delighted for his friend.

“Well, I don't see how I can possibly measure up to that, but I'll try.” The rest of the room snickered, and he stood and lifted Hermione to her feet.

“M'lady, allow me the honor of kissing you senseless in shameless display of passion,” he said, bowing and taking her hand. Everyone seemed to be enjoying his gentle send-up of the previous scene. Hermione was grinning at him, still flushed. He put one hand on the small of her back, the other under her neck, dipped her back and kissed her on the mouth. The room cheered.

Which was, of course, when Harry came in.

 

* * *

 

The lights flickered, and everyone in the room turned as one to see who was at the door. “Harry!” Hermione chirped. No one else chirped anything, though, as they registered the thunderous look on his face. The lights flickered more dramatically and the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Several people gasped. Before anyone else could speak, Harry spun around and left, slamming the door behind him. After a moment, Hermione followed him out. He was out in the hall, his hands in hair, looking stricken.

"You made the lights flicker in there! Everyone is terrified! What's going on? What's the matter?"

"You- and Draco- were. You- We're supposed to get married!"

"We were playing - Wait, who's supposed to get married?"

"We are! I was going to ask you!"

"What? But that's- crazy! We don't even- Where is this coming from?"

"Hermione- I've wanted to ask you for weeks! I almost did, the other day!"

"That makes no sense, Harry." Hermione sounded thoroughly bewildered.

"Aren't you in love with me? I saw that book in your apartment-"

"No, Harry!" Hermione now sounded both shocked and furious. "Actually, I'm in love with someone else! You were going to, what, take pity on me? I know perfectly well you aren't in love with me.” She fixed him with a cold stare. “I also know perfectly well that that's not why you're so upset. You need to figure some things out, and sooner rather than later." With that, she Apparated away.

Harry leaned against the wall and slid down it. Then he got up and walked right back into the party, grabbed Draco by the scruff of the neck and Apparated them both to his living room.

 

* * *

 

“What the fuck- Potter?!”

"It's you, isn't it! You thought she could do better- with you! She's in love with you!"

"So what if she was? It's not like you love her!" Draco was enjoying the anger, as it kept the misery at bay, for the moment.

"That's not the point! The point is that she - that you -" Harry faltered, looking tormented.

"Are you in love with her?" Draco both felt he knew the answer and was terrified that he didn't.

"I don't know! All I know is I don't want her to be in love with you!"

"Why?" Draco was mortified by the pain evident in his voice.

Harry just gaped at him.

"You really don't get it, do you, Potter? First of all, it isn't me she's in love with. I'm pretty sure it's Charlie Weasley, if her behavior tonight was any indication." He ran his hand through his hair, a detestable nervous tic he'd no doubt picked up from Potter. Potter was staring at him with an almost unbearable intensity.

"Second of all, you don't have to worry, even if she was in love with me, I'm-"

He'd been about to say “I'm gay,” but he didn't get to finish because Harry had yanked Draco up next to his feverishly warm body and had his mouth over Draco's. He broke off the kiss as suddenly as it had started. Draco felt his eyes drift closed and he involuntarily concluded- "in love with you." A breathless beat passed. He opened his eyes again, reluctantly, to meet Potter's gaze.

"You- you- Say that again." Draco just stared back into those beautiful eyes, mouth slightly open. Potter didn't look upset. At all.

"I'm in- " he began, but Harry obviously realized words were of no importance, and his mouth descended once more on Draco's, warm and sweet and soft. He moaned and intensified the kiss, slipping his tongue into Harry's mouth, where it met with its counterpart and they slid together rapturously. After several eternities of heaven, Harry pulled away again.

"Did you say you were in love with me?"

"I... might have. I tried," Draco laughed, “but you kept interrupting me.”

Harry still looked very serious. “Is it true?"

"No, it's not true, I'm having you on, what a funny joke, ha ha."

Harry looked confused. Draco darted in and sucked on his lower lip, head reeling with pleasure.

"Yes, it's true."

Harry stared at him for a second, and then grinned. "I'm an idiot."

"This is also true." He softened this by licking Harry's ear.

"I've been in love with you for ages," Harry said as Draco nuzzled his neck.

“Wha… What?” Draco pulled away, holding Harry by the arms.

“I've wanted you for ages. I didn't even know for sure if you were gay, but I was pretty certain that you weren't interested in me. I thought you were some sort of sex-god Lothario, and if you'd wanted me you'd have … done something about it.”

“Potter, until a few weeks ago, I didn't even know you swung that way!”

“I just assumed you knew… I mean, Terry Boot's your partner.”

“And he knows I've had a crush on you for years, and he clearly decided he didn't want to lose any important bits by making me aware that he'd got there first.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. But how… why… I kissed you and you didn't do anything about it!”

“When did you kiss me?” Draco goggled at him.

“At the Turf.”

“You kissed me? I kissed you!”

They stared at each other and then burst out laughing. After a few seconds, their laughter trailed off and their eyes met again. Harry's gaze was so intent, so focused and determined, that Draco was quite certain there was no air left in the room. His whole body felt like it was vibrating.

Harry drew him in again, kissing him with a heat that suffused Draco, collecting in his groin. Harry's hands slid around to Draco's arse and groped, and Draco decided that was all the invitation he needed to return the favor.

“Oh god, Potter, your arse is amazing.”

“Ngh, so is yours. God… let's go to my bedroom.”

“Whatever you say,” Draco said against Harry's neck. Harry Apparated them both directly onto his bed.

“So,” Harry said breathlessly, working his hand into Draco's pants, “Are you a bottom or a top?”

“What do you think?” He gasped as Harry's hand succeeded in its mission.

“I'm hoping you're versatile. And I think you're going to look hot writhing underneath me, in about two seconds.”

Draco wrestled with Harry's fly as he said, “As long we can take turns, I'm up for anything with you. And I think you're … oh… going to have find your lubricant…”

Harry scrambled for his wand. “Have you forgotten that we're wizards?” He pushed Draco down on the bed and whispered something that Draco didn't quite catch. He felt a slight tingling in his arse, and moaned.

“God, Potter, you're fucking… so…”

“Flip over,” Harry growled, helping Draco twist around underneath him. His hands spread Draco's arsecheeks apart and he made a soft sound of approval.

“Goddamn, you look good enough to eat.”

All of Draco's most fondly cherished dreams were coming true. “So that was a cleaning charm?” he asked, his voice low with anticipation.

He received no answer beyond the feeling of Harry shifting down behind him and the electrifying sensation of a tongue against his arsehole. He made a high keening sound and lost himself in Harry's eager ministrations.

Draco bucked against Harry's tongue and heard himself babbling incoherently “Please, please, please- ”

Harry lifted up from Draco's arse and crawled up over him. “Please you want me to keep going, or please you want my cock?”

“Your cock,” Draco panted.

“Since you ask so nicely,” Harry breathed into Draco's ear as he positioned his prick against Draco's wet hole, pushing in with intent.

“Oh god, Harry… oh fuck….why didn't we - we-do this before...ohhhh…” Draco trailed off into a moan as Harry's cock buried itself balls deep in him.

“We,” Harry replied, punctuating each word with a thrust, “ are. Both. Fucking. Idiots. My god you feel so fucking good.” He'd been holding himself up on his outstretched arms, but the pleasure weakened him and he lowered himself to his elbows, humping into Draco's arse and sucking on his neck.

Draco lifted his hips to meet every thrust, wriggling to maximize the sensation for both him and Harry. While he was lifting up, he felt Harry's weight shift to one side and his right hand make its way underneath Draco's body, reaching for his more than eager cock.

Neither man could take more than a few additional moments of the intense sensations assaulting them. Within seconds of each other, they each cried out their release, collapsing to the sheets.

* * *

“So,” Draco sighed in the glowing aftermath, “you've been in love with me for ages, huh?” He couldn't help the grin that spread over his face as he said this. Though he wasn't looking at Harry, he could feel an answering grin against his cheek.

“Yeah, but don't sound so smug about it. I seem to recall that you confessed the same thing to me. And,” Harry added, sounding triumphant, “you said it first!”

“Yes, but you kissed me first. I win.”

'You do not! You kissed me at the Turf!”

“You liar! You said you kissed me!”

Draco turned his face to Harry's, their lips millimeters apart. “Maybe this is one of those “win-win” scenarios I've heard so much about?” he whispered.

“Yes, I think you may be right about that,” Harry replied, his lips moving against Draco's.


End file.
